


Welcome, Neal

by epeeblade



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), White Collar
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Crossover, Gen, Recruitment, minor torture, not AoS compliant, smartass Clint, xover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1281967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeeblade/pseuds/epeeblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being kidnapped, Neal is rescued by an unlikely ally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome, Neal

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, seriously, this fic is very self-indulgent and was absolutely a blast to write. Spoilers for the last episode of Season 5 of White Collar.
> 
> Also, in this verse the events of the Avengers take place after 2014, instead of 2012.
> 
> Thanks so much to my betas, Lapillus and Auchterlonie.

Neal gasped and shook his head, droplets of water careening from his hair and cheeks and sticking stubbornly on the tip of his nose. Even disoriented, he was able to take quick stock of his situation: hands bound above his head and separated by a bar; his chest bare, but he still kept his pants, though not his shoes; the room was just a shade too cold, and the water dripping down his chest made him shiver. 

“Sorry for the rude awakening, but I was tired of looking at sleeping beauty.” A woman stood in front of him. She held an empty bucket in one hand and she wore an evil grin. It took Neal a moment to recognize her with the short, spiky blond hair she now sported.

“Rebecca...Rachel.” He corrected himself. Rebecca never existed. She’d been a fiction, a con Neal had fallen for hook, line and sinker. “Where are we?”

Fluorescent lights beamed on him from above, but they illuminated nothing more than sterile white walls and white tile flooring. They could be anywhere. Neal tried to figure out how long he’d been out, but the cotton taste in his mouth meant he’d been drugged. They could be hours away from New York.

He looked at the wiley calculation in Rachel’s eyes and revised that. Days. He could be days away from New York.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” The grin that spread across her face reminded him of the Rebecca he used to care for. Neal had to turn away.

“They’ll find me.”

“Who? Your little FBI handler? He’ll just think you cut your anklet and ran away. Isn’t that what you were planning to do after all?” She started to circle him, and Neal felt his hackles prickle at being unable to see her as she moved behind him.

“Peter is too smart for that.”

“It doesn’t matter. Pretty soon you won’t care what Peter Burke thinks.” When Rachel returned, she had something in her hands, and Neal could only watch as she attached the electrodes to his chest.

He sucked in a breath. “What the hell are you doing?” On some level, Neal had known Rachel wasn’t entirely sane. You couldn’t decapitate someone with a piano wire and be well-adjusted. But he hadn’t expected her to torture him.

“Just close your eyes and relax. I promise by the time you wake up, you’ll see things my way.”

Neal felt ice settle in his gut. “You’re insane.”

She just smiled and stepped back. “We’ll start with something easy. What’s my name?”

He stared at her. “What?”

“It’s a simple question, Neal. You should be able to answer it. What’s my name?”

Neal narrowed his eyes. Whatever her game, he wasn’t going to play it. “Rachel Turner.”

“Wrong answer.”

The first time the pain made him black out. Neal woke up to more water on his face and Rebecca’s smile.

“Let’s try that again.”

***

Three days. At least, Neal thought three days had passed. She never let him sleep for long, just enough so he woke up disoriented. There were flashing lights. The room was never dark. Sometimes she gave him pain, other times pleasure. And always, always her voice whispering in his ear, telling him how things had been.

Right now, Neal thought he could still remember the truth. He held on to small things: Kate’s perfume (he’s bought a bottle of it long ago, and only took it out when he forgot the scent of it. Breathing it deeply would bring back the good times and help chase away the bad), the exact shade of the sky outside his apartment at dawn, how Peter sounded when he was disappointed, all things that kept him as Neal.

She was trying to rewrite him, and he knew she would win.

It was an attractive storyline - one where they were lovers and thieves, crossing the world looking for the great score. It would be so easy to fall into it, and let reality disappear.

Three days should be enough time. Neal would just have to be very convincing. He wouldn’t get another chance.

When she came back into the room - but before the light show started - Neal looked up through his eyelashes and gave his most pathetic look. “Rebecca? Where are we?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you remember?”

Neal blinked and tried to think. He was careful - she knew his tells. “Rome? We’d just pulled that heist on the Vatican...wait, no, it was Paris? The Louvre?” 

“No,” she told him, placing a hand on his cheek. Neal fought not to flinch. “It was New York. The Met. You remember?”

“I…” that hadn’t been in the programming, or at least, Neal didn’t know what she was talking about. “No?”

“Don’t worry, lover.” Her lips were hot against his skin. “You will, soon.”

The lights began again.

***

Neal was alone when he heard the noise. At first he thought she might have resorted to fucking with him when he thought he was safe. It would be like Rebecca...Rachel. Rachel.

He looked up, shocked to see a square opening in what had been a solid ceiling without any seams. A figure leapt through it, landing smoothly on his feel like a cat. The guy was dressed all in black, except for an absurd purple triangle stylized on the chest of the suit. 

“Who the hell are you?” Neal blurted.

The guy cracked a grin. “I’m Clint Barton. I’m here to rescue you.”

“Don’t even think about calling me princess.”

Neal could feel himself start to tremble. He didn’t know if he could trust this stranger of it it were another of Rachel’s games. 

Barton looked at the contraption holding Neal’s arms apart and frowned. “It’s gonna hurt when I cut you down. How long have you been like that?”

“Hours.” She let him down every so often, probably not wanting her investment to be permanently injured. Today had been a bad day, and a long session of lights. She’d stormed out, and Neal had been literally left hanging.

“All right. Hold still.” Barton touched his ear. “Found him. Give me ten.”

“You’re not FBI.” 

***

This guy looked really out of it. His pupils were wide and glassy - a sure sign of some drug cocktail. Clint hoped he was going to be able to get the target to the rendezvous point. He didn’t like the look of the setup - no one should be bound like that for very long. His own shoulders twinged in memory.

“No, kid. Let’s worry about that later, okay?” Clint used the multi-pick tool in his pack to free the locks on the restraints and let the guy down gently.

“Neal. Not kid.” Neal rubbed his wrists and winced. The sooner Clint got him to medical, the better.

“You look about five years old. That makes you a kid to me.” Clint moved to the door and noted the biometric lock on the other side. Hopefully SHIELD’s latest tech would do its job and blow the lock without blowing the door. “Stand back a bit, okay?”

Clint didn’t wait for an answer before placing the device on the wall. He palmed it before stepping back himself. There was a hissing sound and the smell of something burning (He made a mental note to tell R and D about that. A smell could give away his position.) Once the device cycled, he was able to pull the door open. 

“Nice. What is that?” Neal had come up beside him and was examining the device like a science geek fresh out of the Academy. 

“Worry about it later. Can you run?”

Neal grimaced. Those baby blues did make him look like a kid, although Clint could see the shadows in them. He wondered what this guy’s story was, but that information hadn’t been part of the mission packet. “I can probably hobble pretty quickly.”

Clint couldn’t help but like him. He touched his comm. “Are all the booby traps taken care of?”

“Stick to the main hallway, then make a right before the stairwell. There’s an alternate exit at the end of the hall. I’ll meet you downstairs.” Nat’s voice came with smooth instructions. She’d been busy disassembling the traps while Clint had forced his way in through the ventilation system. 

She was after bigger fish. Rachel Turner had long been on SHIELD’s watch list, though she never had quite the notoriety of the Black Widow. Clint had suggested during the mission briefing that it was because she lacked a cool nickname. Unfortunately, no one agreed with him that Barracuda would make an awesome name.

His insistence on humming the song might have had something to do with that. At least he got an eye-crinkle out of Coulson. That had been worth it.

“Stick close to me, kid.” Clint pulled out his bow and had an arrow at the ready. 

“Neal.” The kid corrected again, but he stayed just behind Clint’s shoulder as they made their way down the hall. 

So far it was quiet - too damn quiet. Clint knew something must be up, and he was right. They made it to the bottom of the stairwell when he heard the sounds of a fight. “Wait here.” 

He kicked the door open only to stumble into the most epic girl-fight he’d ever seen. And he’d watched Nat spar with Agent May, so that was saying something.

Natasha and the Barracuda faced off in the room, their fighting a mix of flips and martial arts moves that made Clint wince. There were things you should not be able to do with your thighs. He cocked his bow, but they were moving too fast for even him to get a clear shot.

He was pretty sure Nat wouldn’t mind if he shot through her, but he tried to make it a policy of not shooting his partners.

Besides, he knew Nat had this. No MI 5 washout was going to take down the Black Widow.

Clint narrowed his eyes, and it was as if the fight slowed before his vision. Nat telegraphed a kick, allowed the Barracuda to get in a lucky shot to her knee. But when she came close to pursue the attack, Nat grabbed her by the throat and had the Barracuda on the ground, with one arm pinned and the other twisted behind her back.

“Planning on helping any time soon?” 

He slid the arrow back in the quiver and shouldered his bow to pull out a pair of handcuffs. “Sorry, too busy selling popcorn.” Clint tossed them her way before turning to check on his part of the mission.

Neal hadn’t stayed where Clint had left him, but he hadn’t ventured much past the door. He stared at Natasha with very wide eyes. 

“She’s not FBI either.” Clint scratched his head. 

Neal’s knees appeared to give out and he slumped to the ground. “I think the drugs caught up with me.”

“Fuck.” Clint crouched next to him. “We’re gonna need that medical assistance sooner rather than later, Coulson.” 

“Location is secure,” Natasha added.

“Stand by.” Phil’s reassuring voice came over the comms.

Clint trusted Phil to take care of things. But he still didn’t know what SHIELD wanted with this kid, or why the Barracuda had grabbed him. Clint didn’t like not knowing.

***

Neal woke and for the first time his head was clear and he wasn’t dying of thirst. He did a quick scan of the room, noting the high tech machines attached to his IV drip. This wasn’t an ordinary hospital. The bed was too darn comfortable, the tech too advanced. 

His rescuers weren’t FBI, clearly, but Neal had no evidence that they were the ‘good guys’ so to speak. Although he doubted any criminal cartel could have a hospital set up THIS nice, he could always be wrong. Neal needed to watch and wait, play their game and figure out how to get home.

He couldn’t have been awake for more than ten minutes before the door opened. His eyes flickered to the cameras in the corner. They’d been waiting for him to wake up.

Two men entered - the first, a solid looking man in a suit, reminded him of Peter, both in his stance and by the way his eyes seemed to see right through Neal. The second was the man who’d rescued him, dressed in what looked like military BDUs and combat boots. Clint grinned at him, and snagged one of the wheeled stools doctors used for himself.

“Hey, Neal. How ya feeling?” Clint zoomed around in the chair, looking like an oversized child.

“Much better, thank you.” Neal was very appreciative, but he tried to oversell it just a bit. Let them think he was overcome with gratitude.

The suit narrowed his eyes. “Mr. Caffrey, I’m Agent Coulson. You’ve already met Agent Barton. We represent the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.”

Neal blinked. “That’s a mouthful.” The might be going for good cop/bad cop. Barton would come in with the friendly banter, while the suit would give him the hard sell.

He was starting to think like Mozzie. Then again, he’d just been rescued by a mysterious organization from a crazy woman who’d been trying to brainwash him.

“Just call it SHIELD.” Clint winked at him.

“Would you be terribly offended if I say I haven’t heard of you?” Neal put on his most innocent face, pulling it on like a comfortable pair of jeans. 

The suit - Coulson - smiled, though Neal could tell it wasn’t his real smile, it was a practiced thing, meant to placate. “I’m thrilled, rather.”

“That’s the point behind a secret agency.” Clint slid across the room on his stool and spun around a few times. 

Coulson looked more amused after Clint’s comment. His face cleared quickly. “We’d been after Rachel Turner for a long time.”

Clint started humming a song under his breath. 

“I hope you can hold her. She’s escaped federal prison twice.” Neal rubbed at the arm with the IV still sticking in it. What exactly were they pumping into him?

The two men exchanged a look. “Trust me,” Clint said. “She’s not going anywhere.”

“We would like to debrief you about your experiences with her. Anything you could tell us would be most useful in matching her with crimes not yet attributed to her.” Coulson took a small tablet out of his suit jacket pocket. “I also have a proposition for you.”

Neal scowled and couldn’t help the bitterness. “What, you want me to work for you or else? I get that a lot.”

“It’s not a threat, Mr. Caffrey, it’s an offer.” Coulson handed over the tablet. “If you say no, you will simply go back to the FBI and your anklet.”

Neal took the tablet. He didn’t touch the screen. “If they even buy that I was kidnapped.”

“Don’t worry about that. Coulson’s good at fixing things.” Clint got up from his stool and his face got serious. “SHIELD isn’t a bad place to work. It’s pretty good to us former criminals.”

“Former.” Neal repeated under his breath. Peter seemed to think otherwise, making every effort to convince Neal that he would never be anything but. 

“At least with SHIELD you won’t have a radius.” Clint reaching around Neal’s arm and tapped the screen, bringing it to life. “We’re all chipped for emergencies, mind you, but nobody’s gonna limit you to two miles on your own time.”

Neal swallowed hard. “I don’t believe you. You can’t, you can’t just make a jail sentence go away.”

Coulson’s only response was to raise a single eyebrow.

“It’s not a bad gig,” Clint said. “Read the briefing. I’m sure Coulson was his usual thorough self.”

The plastic of the tablet felt warm beneath his fingers. Neal tried not to think about the carrot being dangled in front of him, instead more worried about the stick. He still had no idea where he was. He had to contact Mozzie and June, let them know he was all right. And Peter…

“If I’m going to do this,” Neal said. “I need you to do something for me, first.”

***

Peter Burke waited in line behind his favorite coffee cart, too conscious of the fact that he would be purchasing only one cup of coffee. The search for Neal had dried up fast, and he was still fighting his superiors on whether it should be treated as a missing persons case or an escaped felon case.

He’d just finished paying for his cup when a man came up beside him.

“Walk with me, Agent Burke.”

Peter stiffened. He didn’t recognize the stranger, but everything about him screamed federal agent - from his dark suit, dark sunglasses and the familiar bulge that indicated he was carrying. Peter fell into step beside him and started to walk, one hand in his pocket hovering over his cell phone. “Have we met?”

“We’re about to. Agent Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.” He pulled a business card out of nowhere and handed it to Peter.

Peter stared at the little embossed logo. “SHIELD doesn’t exist. It’s a story they tell at Quantico, like Area 51.”

Coulson made a little humming noise. “Count yourself lucky you haven’t needed to deal with us before.”

“I’m not exactly sure I believe you.”

“You don’t have to believe me now. When you walk into your office there will be a briefing packet on your desk. It will tell you exactly what you need to do if you would like to speak with Neal Caffrey tomorrow.”

Peter stopped walking. All he could see was a blinding red rage behind his eyelids. “You took him?”

Coulson whirled on him and pulled off his glasses. “We rescued him. And we have Ms Turner in custody. This time she’ll stay in custody.”

“I want to see Neal right now.”

“Mr. Caffrey is recovering from his injuries. He’d prefer to see you when he’s more himself.” 

Peter’s blood ran cold at those words. How badly had Neal been hurt? “I want to talk to him.”

Coulson pulled out one of those fancy Stark phones, the kind El had wanted and Peter had said he’d never get the hang of. Thinking of her now made his heart hurt. No matter what, he couldn’t stop thinking of her. “One moment.” Coulson held up one finger before holding the phone up to his ear. “Coulson. Alpha foxtrot twenty nine. Authorization central seventy seven. Yes, connect me to Mr. Caffrey please.” 

After a moment, he nodded and handed the phone to Peter.

“Neal?”

“Hey, Peter.” Neal sounded like himself, only a little tired. “Don’t worry, I’ve already talked to Mr. Havisham.”

The tension riding Peter’s shoulders suddenly released. If Neal had been in trouble, there would have been a different signal phrase. “We’ve been looking for you,” he said, because Neal had to know Peter would never have left him.

Neal didn’t say anything for a while, and then finally said, “We’ll talk tomorrow?”

“We will.” Peter heard the call disconnect and handed the phone back to the Coulson. He glared at the man. “If I find out that you are bullshitting me in any way…”

“Really, Burke? You don’t strike me as a man who resorts to empty threats.” Coulson put his phone away. 

“Who says I don’t mean it?” Peter turned and walked down the street. He tossed his coffee on the way back to the office. He no longer had the stomach for it.

***

Neal followed Clint into the cafeteria, about 90% certain he shouldn’t be allowed in here, not yet. “Are you sure this is all right?”

“The docs discharged you. Where else are you gonna go before your meeting?” Clint held open the door. “Might as well grab something to eat. Food here isn’t that bad.”

They were back in New York, although Neal hadn’t seen any signs of the city. There were no windows in Medical, or down the hallways Clint ran him through to get to the cafeteria. He’d been debriefed about Rebecca in a tiny windowless room, which had been close enough to an interrogation room to give him the willies. 

Going over the whole entire thing had left him feeling empty, like a tooth had been removed. It gave him a strange sort of relief, yet there was a hole he kept poking at. “Yeah, but I haven’t committed to anything, yet. Should I really be walking around your super secret HQ?”

Clint threw back his head and laughed. Heads turned in the cafeteria, and he waved as he lead them toward the line. “Trust me, there’s no way you’d be getting anywhere you are not supposed to be.”

Neal grinned. “I don’t know. You don’t know me very well. I could consider that a challenge.”

Something lit up in Clint’s eyes. “All right. Let’s eat, and then let’s see how deep you can go. I’ll even give you a head start.”

Neal wasted no time, grabbing the cafeteria worker’s ID as she passed him his order. He distracted her with a smile and slid the card into the pocket of the borrowed pants he’d been given in Medical. The id would do for now, until he could grab one from someone higher level.

Throughout their conversation over lunch, Neal would casually throw questions in to get a read on Clint, about his status at SHIELD. Clint was darn good at deflecting, so Neal made it a point to watch the other people in the cafeteria, to see how they reacted to Clint’s presence. 

Once he finished up his salad, Neal pushed aside the tray. “How long is my head start?”

Clint held up his dessert. “Time it takes me to finish my pudding. I do love pudding.”

Neal laughed and picked up his tray. As he carried it to the trash, he started up a conversation with an agent also throwing away her garbage. Neal ever so politely held the door open for her. Game on.

***

Clint regrouped with Natasha in one of their hidey holes around HQ. This one was above the level 7 staff room, in an area where the vents intersected and created the perfect little nest with just enough room for two people to stretch out. She had a tablet running with the volume on low.

“This little experiment of yours is going to bite you in the ass.” 

“Probably.” Clint settled on his belly next to her, and snuggled in close to see what exactly Neal was up to. “Don’t you want to see if this guy is as good as Coulson says? That his charm is possibly a low level mutant ability?”

“I’m sitting here with you, aren’t I?” There was no bite in her voice. Natasha turned up the volume.

“I saw him lift Terri’s keycard.” Clint watched as Neal used it to get to a more restricted level.

“You still have yours?”

Clint checked his lanyard, and then let out a sigh. “Like I wouldn’t have noticed that.”

Natasha snorted, conveying a novel’s worth of doubt in one sound. Clint gave her the stink eye and turned his attention to the tablet. 

Neal had somehow managed to find the probie agents coming out of the gym after a training session. He blended into the group and chatted with them, nothing consequential that Clint could tell, and then broke off from the crowd to disappear through a stairwell.

“Where’s he heading?” Clint watched as Natasha skimmed through all the security feeds, until they found Neal outside requisitions. “What the…?”

It soon became apparently clear what Neal was after. He charmed the staff there with a sob story about losing his entire wardrobe in a fire. “And you know, I have that meeting with Agent Coulson in an hour…”

It was true, Neal did have that meeting, so if they looked it up, it would show up in Coulson’s public schedule. Clint grinned as he watched the staff find a suit to fit Neal and apologize for not being able to tailor it better. 

“He’ll be able to get farther in the suit. Nice choice.” Natasha sounded approving.

“I should have brought popcorn from the cafeteria.” This was just as good as any reality show Clint could be watching. He really regretted not bringing any snacks when he saw Neal lift a keycard from Agent Sitwell.

“Aw, Sitwell, no.”

“So his talent works with men as well as women.” Natasha frowned down at the screen.

“Either that or there’s something we don’t know about Sitwell.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“My relationship, is classified,” Clint explained for the millionth time. 

Just at that moment, his phone buzzed. Clint knew exactly who it was before he dug it out. Looked like Neal wasn’t going to get that far.

***

It was the biometric scanner that tripped Neal up. Of course, if this had been a job he’s prepped for, Neal would have come up with a way around it. Short of grabbing a spare eyeball, right now he had no way to get past it, and didn’t have the knowledge to get around it. 

The level 6 keycard managed to get him on this elevator, but Neal couldn’t get off without the scan. It was an ingenious bit of security, actually. It allowed any intruder to be lulled into a false sense of complacency before being trapped.

Neal debated the merits of pushing the emergency call button. But before he could go for it, the elevator started to move again 

He wasn’t really surprised when the doors opened to reveal Agent Coulson and a security team.

“Mr. Caffrey, would you kindly refrain from testing the security system until you are actually a member of SHIELD?”

Neal grinned. “No promises.”

Coulson pulled off his sunglasses and tucked them into his suit. “Since I know very well that Agent Barton put you up to it, we won’t discuss this any further.” He looked Neal up and down. “I’m glad you dressed for the occasion. Agent Burke is in the conference room.”

Neal swallowed. This meeting would make his decision for him. He didn’t want Coulson to note the importance of it so he grinned and said, “Which one? I know for a fact this building has seventeen conference rooms.”

Coulson merely rolled his eyes and led Neal back into the elevator. Luckily the security team dispersed. When they were alone he said, “When I recruited Agent Barton, the first thing he did was escape from his holding room and find his way to the roof through the ventilation system.”

Neal opened his mouth to reply, but Coulson held up a finger. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

And then the ride was over and Coulson was leading him into something far nicer than anything they had at the FBI. The table was a polished dark wood, and the chairs actually looked comfortable. There was a station in the corner set up with a one-cup coffee maker and a plate of what looked like scones. 

Standing in front of the windows facing the breathtaking view of the city was Peter. Neal didn’t know which he was more thrilled to see. Both the skyline and Peter called ‘home’ to him and for a moment he couldn’t quite catch his breath.

Peter turned as the door clicked shut behind Neal. His eyes widened and he strode across the room in two quick steps. “Neal, you’re here.” 

Neal closed his eyes and accepted the hug, patting Peter gently on the back. He’d been so angry before. Of course, Neal had always thought he’d have the chance to mend things between them. While Rebecca held him captive, Neal had been worrying too much about staying sane to dwell on what had been left unsaid.

Still, there had been a distance, and Neal didn’t quite know how to breach it now. “I appreciate you coming all the way here from DC.”

It had been his condition, before even considering SHIELD employment, Neal had needed to speak to Peter in person. If they were as successful an agency as Coulson claimed, then transporting one FBI agent should be no problem.

Peter stepped back, although he still couldn’t seem to take his hands off Neal, leaving them on Neal’s shoulders for a moment before dropping them down to his sides. “I never went to DC. I stayed in New York to look for you.” He shook his head. “I would have stayed anyway, but you went and got yourself kidnapped.”

“I didn’t exactly plan that.” Neal frowned. He’d talked to Mozzie earlier - and that had been a conversation filled with code words and insinuations once Neal had explained where he was calling from. Neal had had to promise an in-person meeting as well, but off SHIELD grounds (in Central Park, where he had to bring a copy of the New Yorker, and sit on a bench with his left leg crossed over his right knee to wait for more information). There had been one thing Mozzie had been clear on, when Neal had asked about Peter and Elizabeth. “I thought Elizabeth took that job with the National Gallery.”

“She did.”

“And you stayed in New York.” Once again Neal had come between Peter and his wife. Neal genuinely liked El. He didn’t want to be the force that broke them apart. “Did you...separate?”

“Long distance relationship.” That explained the bags under Peter’s eyes, and the way the suit jacket didn’t seem to sit right on his shoulders.

“Oh.” Neal went to the coffee machine in the corner and spent a few minutes brewing them coffee as he collected his thoughts. 

The anger that he’d nursed for so long had faded. Peter would always be Peter, and if he could only see the criminal in Neal, well that was what Neal had loved about the man. Peter was noble, too noble, and he deserved more than being exiled to Manhattan while the love of his life set up house in DC. 

Of all the things Neal had expected to affect his decision, he had not foreseen this. He turned and offered Peter the cup he’d made for him. Neal hadn’t had to ask, he’d known for a while how Peter Burke took his coffee.

“SHIELD has offered me a job.”

Peter paused, the cup inches from his lips. “What? You mean after your sentence is up?”

“No, I mean, now, today.” Neal took a sip. The coffee wasn’t gourmet, by any means, but it was certainly world’s better than anything the FBI had ever provided. Then again that could just be Peter’s tendency to prefer sludge instead of coffee. 

“That’s not possible.”

“Apparently it is.”

“Neal, I didn’t even know this agency existed until yesterday.” Peter put the coffee cup down on the table. “I made some calls last night. SHIELD does some heavy stuff. Not your usual thing.”

“They need someone with my expertise.” Neal had read the files Coulson had provided. Twice. SHIELD did lack agents strong in artistic backgrounds, and there were some high profile operations where Neal’s knowledge would be useful. Coulson had tantalized him with crumbs about those missions, just enough to intrigue him without revealing classified information. “I’m thinking of taking them up on it.” 

“Neal, you can’t be serious.”

“No? Why would I want a job where I’m treated as a human being instead of a criminal?” Neal snapped and he saw the barb hit home. “I wouldn’t be limited to a two mile radius. I’d get vacation time. A pension. You can’t offer me anything like that.”

“The stakes are higher, Neal.” Peter looked around, as if admiring the decor of the conference room. “You sure you’re up to it?”

Neal let out a laugh. “Peter, come on. Despite dealing with white collar crime we’ve both risked our lives multiple times. I know the risks.”

Peter shook his head, as if disbelieving, but Neal only nodded. “Peter. Go home to your wife. Let me do this.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me, you know that, right?”

Neal was surprised by the tears the pricked his eyes. He blinked them away. “You kidding? I have everything to prove.”

“Neal.”

“You can finally stop worrying about me.” That would now be Coulson’s job. Neal wondered if he was up for it.

“Now who’s kidding?” Peter grabbed Neal’s shoulder and squeezed. “Take care of yourself.”

“You know I will.”

After Peter left, Neal wasn’t surprised when the door opened again to reveal Coulson and Barton. No anklet, yes, but this place was rife with surveillance. 

“I heard there was good news,” Barton grinned.

Neal couldn’t help smiling back. This man had saved his life too, just not in the same way Peter had. “Where do I sign?”

Coulson actually had the forms with him. “Agent Barton wants to be your supervisory officer. Give me one good reason why I should let him.”

Neal grinned. SHIELD would not know what hit them.

### Epilogue

Peter had his keys out by the time he made it to the top of the steps. Sometimes he still went for the old key from New York - kept for sentimental reasons - instead of the one for their Arlington townhouse. Even after two years, this place didn’t quite feel like home. 

Maybe that’s because Peter didn’t feel quite settled in the job either. He’d been more than up for the challenge of section chief, that wasn’t the problem. But being out of the field left him feeling strangled. While he’d looked forward to having set hours, to not worrying El quite so much, Peter just didn’t expect to be so bored. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his job, there was just something...missing.

He turned the knob and opened the door. Peter heard laughter coming from inside, and he paused with one foot hovering over the step. El would have texted him to warn him about guests. The voice sounded familiar, though Peter didn’t quite believe what his ears were telling him.

He put his briefcase down and slowly made his way inside, one hand ready to reach for his sidearm if he was wrong. But no, that was Neal Caffrey sitting in his living room, with a half-full glass of wine in one hand. 

“Peter, we were waiting for you.” El jumped up and greeted him with a kiss. “Look who came to visit.”

He took her hand, because Peter needed the solid weight of her by his side. How could he have ever lived months without her? “Neal.”

“Agent Caffrey now.” Neal set down the glass and got to his feet. He held out his hand and Peter shook it heartily.

“Never thought I’d see the day.” Peter narrowed his eyes, watching the way Neal favored his right side before sitting back down. “How’d you get hurt?”

“Nothing gets past you.” Neal’s grin didn’t fade. “It’s nothing serious. A few stitches and an order to take it easy.”

El collected the empty glasses on the table. “I can’t imagine you’ve had much time off lately.”

Not after New York and that whole alien invasion. Peter had watched the entire thing from their living room, glad they were out of the city, but terrified for their loved ones still there. El had gotten a call from Mozzie from a burner phone - what else - letting them know that he and June were well, and that he’d gotten a message from Neal.

Peter might have been watching the TV for his familiar figure.

“I wasn’t in New York when everything happened.” Neal shook his head. “Got recalled with everyone else, though. Of course it’s now that I get injured.”

“And you probably can’t tell us how or why.” Peter frowned. “Gunshot or stab wound?”

“Peter.” El brushed her free hand across his back. “Let it go.”

He couldn’t, not quite. Peter sank into his armchair. “You promised I wouldn’t have to worry.”

Neal grimaced. “That was a promise I shouldn’t have made.”

El let out a sigh. “I’m going to check on dinner. Neal IS staying, and you two should chat.” She gave them both a warning look before disappearing.

Peter watched her go, still wondering how he got so lucky.

“I like my job,” Neal said. “I’m good at it, and you needed to be here.”

Peter pursed his lips and didn’t speak. It was all true, but it didn’t mean he had to like it.

“And since one of the fringe benefits of working for SHIELD is the vacation time, I was hoping I could spent some of it here. I did promise to be your annoying house guest.”

“You know El is going to grill you about the Avengers.”

Neal chuckled. “I don’t suppose I can just tell her it’s classified?”

Peter just gave him a look. Neal knew about El’s uncanny powers of persuasion.

“I did want to talk to you about something.” Neal shifted on the couch, and Peter wondered just how bad the wound was. He’d pry it out of Neal at some point. For now he handed him one of the extra throw pillows and Neal nodded gratefully. “Are you happy here?”

“What kind of a question is that?”

“Sorry. I just meant,” Neal gestured as if looking to catch the words. “Are you content to deal with art crimes when there’s a whole galaxy out there?”

Peter’s heart started to thrum. “What are you saying, Neal?”

“Maybe SHIELD could use a man with your skills. We’ve got a Washington office, too. It’s way more exciting than bond forgery. Aliens, Peter.”

“I’d have to talk to El.” 

Neal grinned. “Maybe I already did.”

Well then, Peter never could resist it when both of them ganged up on him.

end


End file.
